Fender Bender Blues Read online

  “Please don’t tell me you invited Craig,” she sighed, already knowing the answer.

  “What does it matter? You’re not interested in him so...”

  “It doesn’t, but apparently you aren’t taking me seriously when I say I’d rather not be in the same room with him,” Rach accused. She stirred her drink with the tiny red straw and glanced around the room. Women in low cut tops and very high heels outnumbered the men two to one.

  “Why are you so mad at him?” Leah asked with a troubled frown.

  “He told me he’s only interested because he hasn’t been laid in a long time,” she answered.

  “He said that?” Leah gasped. She frowned again. “That really doesn’t sound like something Craig would say. What’d you say to him first?”

  Rach threw up her hands in exasperation. “Why does it have to be my fault?”

  “Because ever since you met him you’ve been looking for reasons to piss him off and I think it’s because you like him and it scares you,” she stated with a hard stare and Rach looked away.

  The ice cubes floating in her glass weren’t as interesting as she pretended they were, but Leah knew her better than anyone and looking her in the eye and lying wasn’t easy. Somewhere amidst all the bickering, she’d gone from annoyed to interested. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but it had.

  “He’s not my type.” Craig is everyone’s type.

  “Hm,” Leah answered, unconvinced.

  “Leah, I’m trying to find a job, not a boyfriend. And he’s arrogant as hell. It’s annoying,” she added.

  Instead of arguing, Leah’s piercing squeal rattled Rach’s eardrums. Her friend leaped into Rick’s arms in a move that could have injured someone and Rach slid over toward the wall to avoid a black eye. Standing next to Rick was Craig, and though she’d prepared herself, her heart began racing at the sight of him.

  Rach went back to pretending the melting ice in her glass was the most amazing thing since the invention of reclosable bags. She didn’t trust what eye contact with Craig would result in, so she chose to ignore him even though chucking an ice cube at his forehead would have been more satisfying.

  “Come on, Craig, sit down. There’s plenty of room,” Leah urged. She pushed Craig toward Rach and he hesitated a moment before sitting down next to her.

  Her nipples tightened when his arm brushed against hers and she inched away. She forced herself to think of the nasty words he spoke only a week ago, but the attraction didn’t go away as she hoped it would. Of course he has to smell good enough to eat, the jerk!

  “You look pretty tonight,” Craig told her, an easy smile on his lips.

  If he thought she would warm up to him because of a stupid compliment—he was right. Her guard was slipping quickly, so she glared. “And you look like you got all dressed up to whore around. Did you come here to find someone to fuck?”

  Leah winced across the table and Rick frowned. Craig didn’t look at all insulted, but turned to Leah and asked, “Is she always this pleasant?”

  Rach sunk low in her seat at Leah’s disapproving glare. She was behaving badly and deserved Leah’s scolding. “She’s not normally this misbehaved, I apologize.”

  “He started it,” Rach muttered and finished off her drink.

  Craig only smiled and stood. “I think I’ll get a drink at the bar.”

  She should have been relieved. Instead, Rach’s eyes narrowed when he sat down at the bar beside a knockout brunette with long legs and a short skirt. The urge to stomp over and wedge herself between him and the woman was so strong that she crossed her arms over her chest and vowed not to look their way the rest of the night. Easier said than done.

  Chapter Twenty

  Outside the bar, the wind picked up and the chill in the air caressed her skin, making her shiver. Leah and Rick’s goodbye was dragging on and on and she was ready to get out of there. The entire night had been a disaster and she’d spent most of it wondering why she couldn’t stop glancing over at the bar where Craig entertained the big breasted brunette who danced like a heavily medicated bimbo.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up into the dark sky littered with stars. Somewhere in the distance a horn blared and a faraway shout drifted through the night. Already well past midnight, the crowd from the bar had begun filing outside and Rach leaned away from an intoxicated man who stumbled past. Craig strolled out of the bar and joined her beside Leah’s vehicle.

  She sensed his eyes on her as she stared up at nothing and knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore him much longer. She turned to look at him with raised brows. “Yes?”

  She forced her gaze from the faint smile on his lips and looked into his eyes. “Nothing,” he answered.

  “Bullshit,” she accused, shifting her purse from one shoulder to the other. “You look like you’ve been dying to tell me something all night.” She tapped her foot impatiently on the cement. The click-clicking sounded intrusive so she stopped and instead leaned against Leah’s vehicle and crossed her legs at the ankles.

  “It’s really not that important.” His shrug and noncommittal answer annoyed the hell out of her. He glanced at his watch and she gritted her teeth.

  “You got a curfew again?”

  He bristled. “I don’t have a curfew tonight, and I didn’t have a curfew the other night.”

  The drive-thru across the street caught her eye and her stomach rumbled at the thought of Mexican food and a cold soda.

  “Whatever you say.” She shrugged. “Did you get any phone numbers?” She’d known her words would get under his skin, but didn’t expect to feel guilt over needing to push his buttons. She couldn’t keep torturing him just because her attraction to him was frustrating and confusing, none of those things were his fault. When he pushed away from the car, she snagged his shirt before he could walk away and tried for an apology. “Sorry, I call a truce. You up for a taco? I’m starving.”

  Her words surprised him, but he took it in stride and asked, “You ride with Leah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll take you home,” he said, already walking across the parking lot. She glanced over at Leah, still in a lip-lock with Rick. What the hell, she decided and hurried after him. The lovebirds’ Tongue-of-War could go on for hours.

  Craig held open the passenger door of his ‘Vette and she slid inside. She stared in awe at the beautiful black interior and settled into the low, leather seats. Craig got behind the wheel, the seat as far back as it would go to give him enough leg room for his large frame.

  “I’m speechless,” she breathed, buckling the seatbelt over her.

  “That’s a first.” When she opened her mouth to object, he said, “But I get it. This car is hot.”

  How could she argue? The machine purred when he turned the key in the ignition and she imagined how excited her dad would be to ride in it. He roared out of the parking lot, but slowed to cross traffic and she pouted. They were in a vintage sports car—she wanted to feel the wind in her hair. She wondered what she’d have to bribe him with to put the convertible top down.

  “So where’s cleavage queen? She didn’t want a ride home?” she asked and rolled down the window.

  Craig threw her a cocky, sideways grin and putt-putted up the inclined parking lot of the restaurant. “Why, you jealous?”

  “Hell no,” she denied and puffed out a breath. “I felt sorry for her. You’re a terrible dancer.”

  He wasn’t and they both knew it.

  “You’re jealous,” he stated. Through the rearview mirror, he eyed the SUV behind them packed full of teenagers hooting and singing loudly to rap music.

  “I’ve already explained to you, I’m not interested,” she said, exasperated.

  “Sure you’re not, that’s why you rape my lips when I kiss you,” he said, deliberately diabolical, and she whacked him with her oversized purse. He grunted. “What the hell do you have in that thing? A tire?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I would
n’t doubt it. Women,” he grumbled. She chose to ignore the comment and looked past him out the driver’s window. The car was too low to see the top half of the menu and she tilted her head to get a better view. When that didn’t work, she pushed him back against his seat and leaned across his body to peek out the window, her hands braced against the window frame. He smelled even better than the scent of browned hamburger and cheese drifting from the restaurant, which in her current state of hunger was hard to top. Against her will, her heartbeat accelerated and she froze above him. If he wanted to he could easily reach up and slide the zipper of her pants down and...

  “You know what you want?” Rach gulped against the images she’d conjured. She concentrated on food instead and considered a chicken taco. Or maybe nachos with guacamole, she pondered. That would help keep her mind off naughty things.

  “I don’t know, I can’t see,” he mumbled from under her hair. She snuck a peek at him and smiled at the bulge in his pants. She arched her back a little and her blouse crept up to expose the skin of her lower back. He sucked in a breath.

  “I’ll tell you what you don’t want, and that’s the beef and bean burrito. I had it here once and it sucked. How about I order for both of us,” she suggested, then left him no chance to reply and told the intercom, “We’d like an order of nachos, extra side of guacamole, two cheesy burritos, two cups of ranch, and two sodas, large. Oh, and can you add two soft shell beef tacos with no lettuce to that with some hot sauce on the side?”

  She waited for the person on the other end to repeat the order then she let Craig have another whiff of her hair before she shimmied back to her place on the passenger side. Probably overkill, but she had a point to prove: he was just as attracted to her as she was to him, whether he’d admit it to her out loud or not. She didn’t believe any length of celibacy would affect that.

  “What if I don’t like tacos?” Craig asked, looking unsettled as he put the car into drive. She dug through her purse and pulled out her wallet and a piece of park light from her car’s headlight she hadn’t yet thrown away. She dropped the plastic back into the purse and gave him a serious stare.

  “First of all, that would be weird. Everyone likes tacos,” she insisted. She waved a twenty dollar bill at him. “But that’s why I ordered nachos and a cheesy burrito, for variety. If you don’t like any of those choices then you can watch me eat all of it myself.”

  He glanced down at her tummy. “Where the hell do you pack all that food?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. She clutched at her rumbling stomach. “I’ve tried to put on weight because I hate how thin I am, but it’s futile.”

  “Why would you want to change your body? You look great,” he complimented.

  She mentally did a happy dance, but said with a straight face, “Most guys I date tell me I could use a few more pounds so I’m not sure I should thank you or drive you to the loony bin.”

  “No way, that’s a lie,” he argued, wide-eyed.

  Rach glared at him in the dark of the car. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No, I mean they were lying—or you dated boneheads, and that’s too bad.” He inched forward in the drive-thru.

  “Hm, you might be right about the bonehead part,” she laughed. The vehicle ahead of them left a car-length gap as it inched forward. “If you don’t get moving, that vehicle back there is going to ram this sexy car.”

  “I’m going, relax,” he said, and closed the gap slowly.

  She handed him her twenty, and said, “Give me back a ten. You can pay half since I’m unemployed.”

  “Yes, I remember this.” He gave her an amused smile and put the twenty on her leg, patting it twice. “My treat since I was such a jerk the other day.”

  Rach sat back with a nod. “Well, that’s true so I accept.”

  He traded money for the bag of food and handed it to Rach. He asked, “You haven’t found anything yet?”

  “Nope,” she sighed, and dug through the contents of the bag. Satisfied they hadn’t been jipped on salsa or ranch, she closed the paper bag to seal in the heat. “I thought I had an easy in at a call center, but then a nightmare from my past reared her bitchy head and assured me I’d only get the job over her dead body. She seems in good health so I’m not optimistic.”

  Craig handed her a soft drink and rolled up his window. “I’m sure you can find something better, anyway.”

  She hoped so because a career in fast food was looming closer every day. She wondered how she’d look in a visor. As long as it’s not orange I could pull it off.

  “Think you can hurry it up, granny?”

  Craig threw her a sideways glance. “Granny?”

  “It means exactly what it sounds like—you drive like an old lady,” she grinned.

  He hit the accelerator and she flew back against the seat and the pop spilled onto her jeans when the plastic lid popped off. Rach swore under her breath and he laughed. “That better?”

  “No,” she grumbled and put the lid back on the cup. The crotch of her jeans was soaked and some of the liquid had spilled between her legs, onto the leather. Even the seat of her jeans was wet. “Nice of you, thanks.”

  “You deserved it.” His voice was tight and she doubted he’d ever done anything so reckless in the ‘Vette.

  “I can’t believe you did that in your car,” she breathed, and scooted to the edge of the seat.

  “I can’t either,” he frowned.

  She patted him on the arm and said, “It’ll be okay. Lucky for you I carry hand wipes in my purse. You won’t even be able to tell anything happened to your leather, promise.”

  She cleaned the seat up and said, “See?”

  She stuffed the hand wipes container back into her purse and Craig said in amazement, “You women really do carry everything in your purse.”

  “Saved your ass so shut it.” Rach gave him a stern look, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her lips while delivering it.

  “Consider it shut,” he said. He turned onto her street and the Christmas lights blinked from her porch. “They’re pretty even if they’re out of season. I’m surprised the rest of your street hasn’t complained yet.”

  “I’m sure they aren’t happy, but no one’s said anything yet. Mrs. Jacobs has been my biggest supporter so I think the rest of the block is just going with the flow. I let her bribe me with chocolate chip cookies this time—the lights are staying up another few days.”

  “I’ve got to meet this woman, she sounds interesting.” He parked the car alongside the curb in front of her townhouse and shut it off. He took the bag of food off her lap and said, “I’ll meet you up at the house. I have to make a quick phone call and let Rick know I dropped you off so they’re not worried.”

  “Good idea, though they haven’t called which means I doubt they’ve noticed we’re missing.” Rach unlocked the front door and hurried inside with her jeans sticky and wet against her butt and inner thighs. She set her purse on the kitchen counter and when she went back out to the living room, Craig was shutting the front door. “I’ll be a minute. Some jerk spilled soda all over my pants.”

  “Yeah, well you wouldn’t believe the crap an old bag was giving me on the ride over tonight,” he countered and dropped to the floor behind the coffee table with the takeout.

  Rach hesitated at the stairs. He was unwrapping his taco, getting ready to take a bite. He wouldn’t dare touch her food. Would he? She turned and dashed up the stairs. If she didn’t hurry, he’d probably eat one of her tacos just to be obnoxious. She dug into her dresser and pulled out a pair of powder blue cotton shorts and fished for a t-shirt. She found a gray one from her college days with the words “Butt Out” written across the front and pulled it over her head. She was downstairs in record time, pushing past Craig when she could easily have walked around the coffee table to the other side, and he dumped half his taco filling onto the paper wrapper in front of him.

  “And I thought you might like that,” she
said and sat down next to him. Rach grabbed the other taco, opening it and biting in without any salsa. She moaned with pleasure and shut her eyes to savor the flavors as she chewed. “Oh my God, this is sssooo good.”

  When she opened her eyes after swallowing, Craig was watching her. His blue eyes were intense, gorgeous.

  “What?” she asked and wiped her lips with a napkin. “Haven’t you ever seen a starving woman before?”

  He shook his head and didn’t comment. Instead he scooped up the filling off the wrapper in front of him and shoved the food into his mouth. Rach reached for a cheesy burrito when Tally dropped her face onto her lap and nipped her t-shirt.

  She hugged Tally close and crooned against her neck, “Are you hungry, Sweetie?” Tally blinked moist, black eyes in answer and whined. Rach tapped Craig on his shoulder. “I’ll be back—touch my food and die.”

  He looked ceiling-ward, and held up his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it, some things are sacred.”

  Rach filled Tally’s doggie bowl then went to the fridge. She opened the door and stared at the bottle of vodka. Was it a good idea to make them a mixed drink? She’d had enough already and the food was helping to sober her up. But the man in her living room was making her no-distraction-rule hard to follow and she could use the courage the vodka might give her—or not. She mixed them both a drink and returned to the living room, handing him one of the glasses. “Liquor,” she explained, and sat down beside him. “Thought it sounded like a decent idea since it’s the weekend and all.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and took a sip and winced. “Wow, you could pour this into a gas tank and drive with it.”

  She tried hers and grimaced. “You’re right. I should never be a bartender. Guess I can cross that off my list of jobs to apply for.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Craig enjoyed the companionable silence as they finished off the nachos and Rach flipped through the channels on the TV. She bypassed the History channel, then returned to it and set the remote control down.